


Karaoke Confessions

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Christmas, Co-workers, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has been pining for Arthur, the guy occupying the office across from his, from more than a year now. It's admittedly a little sickening.  He's much more forthright than that. Usually. When he's not in love. And anyway he really means to take his courage in his hands and ask him out, the more so since the upcoming office Christmas Party would be the perfect venue for a first date. But baring one's heart is not so easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Karaoke Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> (i) Written for the holiday Tic Tac Toe challenge at Merlin-writers. I'm using the two glasses close together image prompt. (ii) Inspiration for this comes from an episode of Selfie.

Merlin had been working for Dragonlance for two years now. It was a good job. Dragonlance was, after all, a massive conglomerate, a huge corporation with divisions in electronics, entertainment and finance and branches all around the world. Merlin's salary was stellar. He finally could afford a nice flat and his brand new car was something out of his adolescent dreams. Everything was going fine. It really was. People kept saying Merlin was one lucky sod.

For the most part Merlin agreed. The hours were gruelling, he had no social life anymore, but there were many perks. The job challenged him. He had enough to look after his mum. And he could see himself grow professionally from here.

The downside was one Arthur Pendragon.

Arthur had taken abode in the office opposite nearly six months after Merlin has started at Dragonlance. Though he was technically newer, he was also senior to Merlin, having stepped into the shoes of a managerial director. This meant that the first few months of their acquaintance had seen Arthur lord it over Merlin. He'd pulled rank all the time even though Arthur was by no means Merlin's superior since he worked for another department entirely. He'd demanded the marketing division act entirely on cues from Legal, – but then again Arthur was a corporate lawyer – and he'd been an overall stick in the mud.

This had lasted until Merlin read him the riot act. Merlin had bona fide walked into his office one less than bright morn and said, “Okay, this is in an open act of rebellion. I am not taking it anymore. I really honest to God am not. You must understand that marketing is all about daring and creativity. And we cannot work with Legal breathing down our neck.”

For several seconds Arthur had stared at him as if Merlin were unhinged. Then he'd thrown his head back and laughed, a hand flat on his chest. 

Merlin's mouth had opened in response but no sound had come out.

“You can go, Emrys,” Arthur had said, once he'd finished squeezing the bridge on his nose and dabbing the wet at the corner of his eyes. “You can go back to your office.”

With the wind out of his sails, Merlin had left. He'd clocked his seven hours at the office and left for home, sure that his life at Dragonlance would be harder now than it had been before. He'd spent a sleepless night tossing and turning in his bed, haunted by the idea that his job was in danger and that Arthur would make him pay for that outburst. Which had probably been reckless of him, but he did have a sodding point!

But the following day Arthur had walked into his office waving a white flag – origins thereof unknown – and said, “We're lunching together at 1.13.”

Merlin had subtly snorted through his nose, because the flag was a bit much, honestly, and said, “Yes, sire.”

Ever since then they'd often had lunch together, it had become quite a habit really, and Merlin had learnt so much about Arthur. So much that just didn't shine through when you saw him stalking company premises, frown in place. 

For one Arthur didn't like lackeys. He loved rules and order and acted as if the world had been shaken from under his feet when they were broken. But he didn't appreciate boot lickers and sycophants, as the sacking of his former PA, one Cedric, showed. He had a sense of humour and loved laughing, boisterously so, at whatever wry line or double entendre was fired his way that struck him the most. He was generous to a fault, gave to charity, and not just by singing conscience easing cheques as many corporate types did. He actually played footie with the kids from the Children's Home and started campaigns at work directed towards funding local charities.

He also had a lovely smile that slanted his eyes and brightened his whole face. He had gentle hands he used to shepherd Merlin about – because Merlin could be a clumsy oaf. And sometimes he looked at Merlin as if he was proud of him. His features would gentle and soften then and Merlin's lungs would fill with hot air and he would feel weak in the legs and chest. As if one more hefty kick of his heart could kill him on the spot.

That was why Arthur Pendragon was the downside to Merlin's job.

Little by little Merlin had fallen in love with him. And every day he did so a little more. And it had come to the point Merlin couldn't breathe with the weight of it all, with the longing of it. In short the object of Merlin's desire was so frustratingly close and yet so unattainable. And that was why Merlin's office life – not to mention his overall existence – was fucked to an exquisite level.

 

****

 

Arthur put his hand on Merlin's shoulder and squeezed. “Don't forget about Sunday. We're playing the Children's Home kids.”

Merlin's chest contracted painfully under the onslaught of Arthur's touch, but he made himself smile and said, “How could I forget? I've bought a new pair of footie shoes and three first aid kits.”

Arthur tutted, dropped his hand, and perched on the corner of Merlin's desk. “You talk as if you're going into battle.”

“Oh don't get me wrong; those kids are lovely,” Merlin said, with a smile that did sag a bit at the corners. “But they can be devils on the pitch.”

Arthur laughed that full belly laugh of his. When it had subsided he let it peter out into a tutting noise. “Hardly.”

“I have a four inch scar on my shin too prove it,” Merlin said, putting up two sets of index fingers so he could give Arthur a rough idea of the nature of his battle wound.

“What, want me to kiss it better?”

His cheeks scalding, his thoughts dissolving, Merlin floundered for words. Not a one came to him. It was really shameful, considered he sold slogans for a living.

Fortunately, Lancelot came in and saved him from saying something utterly ridiculous. “Hello, Merlin, I need you to sign these.”

“And that,” said Arthur, pushing off Merlin's desk and retrieving his jacket, which he pulled right next, “is my cue to go.”

As Arthur walked out, Lancelot spread the papers that needed to be signed on Merlin's desk. “Normally,” he said, while he pointed at the dotted line, “I wouldn't meddle.”

Merlin put his signature on each page that required it. “What with?”

“With you and Pendragon.” Lancelot turned the last page of the bunch. “It's pretty obvious.”

“What is?”

“That you're interested in him.”

“I like him when he's not being obnoxious,” Merlin said, thinking that that would satisfy Lancelot's curiosity on the subject without giving away the truth of the matter. “We're friends.”

“Is that all?” Lance studied him with soulful but probing eyes.

“Well, I do fancy him the littlest bit.”

“Then why don't you ask him out?” Lancelot said, as if that was really that simple. “The office Christmas party is coming up. You should ask him to it.”

“No, no way.” Merlin signed rather too briskly and that put a little hole in the document he'd just endorsed. “I'm not.”

“Think about it,” Lancelot said, arching his eyebrows at the damage Merlin had wreaked. “It's pretty informal, it's not off premises so you wouldn't have the embarrassment of choosing a good venue, and it's common ground.”

“Yes, yes, all that makes sense,” Merlin said, nodding his head. He started shaking it. “But it wouldn't work. Arthur's not interested.”

Lancelot tipped his head to the side. “Are we talking about the same Arthur Pendragon?”

“Yes.” 

“Because the Arthur Pendragon I know spends most of his off time in here, and some of his on time too,” Lancelot began, making one of those concerned faces you just couldn't tell him to bugger off for, because Lancelot was the genuine article, a man who cared. “Because he always seeks you out. And I hear he sang your praises at the last board meeting. He said yours was the way to go, more bold marketing, less hassle from Legal.”

“Look, Lancelot,” Merlin said, sinking into his chair. Not even its plush comfort made him feel any better, “I know you mean well, but Arthur only likes me as a friend.”

Lancelot gathered the papers he had brought along in a neat pile he tucked under his arm. “How do you know?” 

“Because I'd know.” Arthur had always been nice and kind – well, past their initial head-butting phase – but he'd never done anything that could be construed as anything more than friendly.

“Well,” Lancelot said, “I really think you should ask him.”

“He outranks me.”

Lancelot's eyebrows knit together. “We're not in the army. You're in two separate divisions. He might have breathed on your back a little because Legal bears the brunt of our fuck-ups. But he's not your boss and he doesn't have any power over you.”

Merlin tried again. “He doesn't believe in fraternisation.”

“He just scowls at Mordred and Kara for kissing in the storage cupboard,” Lancelot said, waving that aside. “I've never heard him say co-workers shouldn't be together.”

“I have.” Merlin distinctly remembered Arthur saying how inter-office relationships disrupted the working environment. It had been at the start of Arthur's tenure at the London office but Merlin didn't have any reason to think Arthur had changed his mind. “Loud and clear.”

Lancelot sighed. “I think he would ditch that philosophy if you were to ask him out.”

Merlin tried to picture himself asking Arthur out. In whichever scenario he envisioned, he ended up failing miserably. “Arthur really believes in principles. He's the most upright person I know.”

“Listen to yourself, Merlin,” Lancelot said, gesticulating. “You're besotted. And I say this with all of my heart. You should do something about that.”

“Arthur isn't gay.”

“How do you know?” Lancelot asked, tilting his head to the side. “Because he's never mentioned his private life to me.”

“His plus one at last year's Christmas party was a girl,” Merlin said, remembering her perfectly. She'd been a hot tottie of the first degree. She'd had waist length curls shiny enough for a conditioner commercial and the face of a cherub. “Sophia, I think was her name?”

“You of all people should know that doesn't mean he isn't interested in men too,” Lancelot said, adding, “He could be bi. Like you.”

“I don't know, Lance,” Merlin said, leaning on his desk, propping his head on his hand and shaking the former. “I just think the odds he's into me are very small.” 

Lancelot made for the door, shaking his head on his way to it. “I don't know, Merlin, I think your list of reasons is pretty bogus.”

Before Lancelot could reach the corridor outside, Merlin shot clean off his chair. “What, why?”

“I think,” Lancelot said, stopping in the doorway, “that you're hiding behind all them so you won't have to run the risk to have your heart broken.”

And with that Lancelot left.

For a good guy Lancelot certainly knew the power of well-timed, pointed one liners that hurt in the solar plexus.

“Fuck,” Merlin said, flumping down in his chair the moment his legs got stupidly shaky under him. “He's right.”

 

***

The first time Merlin tried asking him was the next Thursday, 3 December. Arthur had just come back from an out of town conference and this was going to be their first lunch together since his return. Tray in hand Merlin, advanced towards Arthur's table and plonked down a little noisily.

Fork poised halfway to his mouth, Arthur looked up and grinned. “Hello, Merlin.”

“Hi,” Merlin said, smiling wide, perhaps too wide, at Arthur. “Hello.”

“Yes, we established that.”

“Bellend,” Merlin said, lips stretched in a smile even while he said it.

Arthur huffed softly and didn't bother to come up with a return insult. Instead he arched his eyebrow at Merlin's food. “Really, Merlin, that's what you're eating?”

A half-smile split Merlin's face in two. “You know I don't eat meat.”

“Well, yes, Merlin,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “I haven't quite gone senile. Thank you.” He pointed his fork at Merlin's lunch. “But that looks more like fodder than usual.”

With the plan to get Arthur to go out with him in motion, Merlin hadn't been thinking about food today. He'd just shovelled the first edible items he'd seen in the display case the onto his plate. But he wasn't about to admit that. “It's all perfectly good.”

“Mmm, let me check,” Arthur said, reaching over with his fork.

Merlin batted it off with his spoon. “Haven't you got enough on your plate?”

“Are you calling me fat?” Arthur said, with more outrage to his tone than there was in his expression, in his slitted, twinkling eyes. “I'll have you know I'm not fat!”

Merlin let Arthur have a swipe at his food. It wasn't as if lunch was what he'd come to the canteen for, after all. He had come with a mission. “Look, Arthur.”

Arthur slowed his chewing though his cheeks kept bulging with food. “Mmm?”

“There was something I wanted to ask you.”

“Go--” Arthur took a swallow of his water. “Ahead.”

Merlin's hands dampened and his tongue fattened in his mouth. “Right, yes, I wanted to ask you if...”

Arthur cocked his head to the side and tipped up an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“If you wanted to--”

Sefa sat right next to Arthur and said, “There's a video call for you up in the office. Mr Blake's secretary got his time zone wires crossed and forgot it was lunchtime around here.”

Arthur put down his cutlery. “I supposed I'll have to go.” He rounded his gaze on Merlin. “What was it you wanted to say?”

“Nothing.” Merlin held a palm up, waved the notion he had something to talk about away. “Go take your call.”

Arthur cocked his head to the side and lifted an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Merlin's hopes shattered and with them something inside him cracked too. “Yeah, sure.”

Arthur and Sefa left for the upper floors.

 

****

The second time Merlin tried to get Arthur to go out with him was the following evening. Merlin was peering distrustfully at the microwave. A pre-packaged box of food was turning on its tray and Merlin was hoping nothing would explode on him when the doorbell rang.

Cursing under his breath, Merlin went to get the door.

“Bad moment?” Arthur asked, shifting from foot to foot when he noticed how harried Merlin looked.

“Er no, no,” Merlin said though an ominous bump sounded from the kitchen. “I was starting dinner, but that sound just now? I think it was it giving its soul up to heaven.”

Arthur snorted. “Only you, Merlin.” He held the brown bag he was carrying. “Fortunately, I'm the cavalry.”

“Thai?” Merlin dimpled.

“Chinese,” Arthur said.

“In that case, you may enter.”

Arthur pushed past him. “So if I hadn't had food, you'd have left me outside to weather the cold?”

“Yes, that's it.” Merlin said, walking with Arthur to the kitchen. “That's what I would have done.”

“Cold hearted, that's what you are.”

Merlin dunked the food the microwave had hardened and charred past recognition into the bin, made some space at the kitchen island, retrieved some cutlery, perched on the stool opposite Arthur's, and said, “Well, let's tuck in.”

They were cutting into their veggie spring rolls, when Merlin realised he didn't want to ask Arthur out just yet. He was enjoying the company, sharing his dinner with Arthur, and he didn't wish the moment to come to an end. If Arthur turned him down and Merlin's heart broke there and then Merlin wouldn't be having any more of this. This nice quiet, the two of them sitting companionably together. Arthur would notice that Merlin couldn't take his refusal in stride, that it had put a dent to Merlin's heart, and Merlin couldn't take Arthur pitying him, not right now. Some things were better left for later.

So they talked shop, poked fun at some of their colleagues, those who richly deserved it, and tried to come up with ideas for gifts to be given to the Children's home.

“Not money,” Arthur said.

“No.” Merlin nodded his head. “How about books and toys?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, humming thoughtfully. “That's better. Less impersonal.”

Merlin beamed. “It's Christmas, after all.”

“And you love it, you tender-hearted idiot.”

“We should put on a bit of an act,” Merlin said, starting to think big. “For the young ones. You know a Santa costume, the works.”

“You'll be the reindeer,” Arthur said, waggling his eyebrows.

Merlin spluttered and pouted. “Why do I get to be the animal in this equation?”

“Aren't you the environmentalist one?”

“That doesn't mean I enjoy dressing up as a reindeer.”

“What,” Arthur said, holding his belly for the laughter rippling out him, “and here I was already planning the perfect outfit for you.”

They binned the left over cartons and cleared the kitchen island of crumbs, then moved into the lounge where they sprawled on the sofa. 

“Prime film?” Arthur asked, putting his feet on the coffee table.

“Yeah, but I'm choosing,” Merlin said, because Arthur's taste in movies was questionable to say the least. “The last time you made me watch that apocalypse movie with James Franco.”

“What, I was moving with the times.”

“Shut up,” Merlin said, even if he wasn't feeling it this time, because he wanted Arthur to continue trading barbs with him indefinitely. He was ready to listen forever. “Let's just watch Horrible Bosses.”

“Nah.” Arthur scrunched his nose up. “Too close to home.”

They backed and forthed on a number of available titles and at last decided on Taken 2, mostly because Merlin wasn't into parody and Arthur wasn't into anything ever made by Peter Jackson. So they lowered the lights, rabbited into the most comfortable position, and started watching. 

Thirty or so minutes into the film, Merlin balled his fists on his jeans. Now was the time. He should tell Arthur. If what Merlin wanted was spending more time with him like this – possibly getting a little bit more intimate than this – Merlin should start working towards that goal. He should ask Arthur out. He took a big breath, thought up a suitable opener, and turned his head.

Arthur's mouth had opened slackly and his breathing had become heavier. His eyes were glued shut.

“Of course,” Merlin said, under his breath. “You've gone and fallen asleep.”

Before retreating into his own bedroom, Merlin made sure to cover Arthur with a thick blanket. He was draping the hem around his chest when he felt tempted. He swept Arthur's fringe back, then combed it in place again. “Sleep well, Arthur.”

 

**** 

 

Gritting his teeth, Merlin sank onto the grass, kicked off his shoe and grabbed his foot. He curled his toes forwards and then pulled them back towards him. He tried and tried again, repeating the movement, but the pain didn't ease. “Shit, I hate when this happens.”

The referee whistled and Merlin was grateful for the time out. 

Feet thudded dully on the soft ground of the pitch and then Arthur, cheeks red as apples from the effort, hunkered into his field of vision. “Hey, Merlin, are you all right?”

“Foot cramp,” Merlin said, attempting to stretch his toes into cooperation.

“Here,” Arthur said, easing Merlin's foot onto his thigh. “Honestly, Merlin, you should've learnt to deal with this kind of thing. Have you even drunk your sports drink?”

“No, but--”

“Believe me,” Arthur said, taking Merlin's foot in his hands, “They help with this kind of thing.”

“Mmm. Right, you're right.”

Arthur worked his thumbs into the sole of his foot. He loosened the tightening muscles as he went, finding knots and easing them. Merlin wanted to moan it was so good. Arthur ran strong fingers along his instep, up Merlin's ankle and calf. Then he was back to plying his thumbs into the meat of Merlin's foot. 

Arthur's hands smoothed over bundles of cramping muscles, stroked across his skin, hitting all the tight spots Merlin hadn't been able to curb into unknotting. Zeroing in on it with intent, he applied alternating pressure to the area that hurt the most.

As the pain ebbed and his muscles relaxed, Merlin felt the whole brunt of the contact, became more conscious of Arthur's palms around his foot, of his fingers pressing into his flesh. As Arthur worked the kinks out of his cramping appendage, Merlin sensed the warmth of him and the hastening of his breathing.

In heaven now, Merlin made a little noise in the back of his gullet. As Arthur touched him, Merlin's throat worked. When Arthur looked up to make sure he wasn't hurting Merlin, Merlin felt his senses expand. 

While Arthur kneaded his foot with perfect thoroughness, Merlin imagined him being this intent on other parts of him. Arthur was being so conscientious about this, so attentive, Merlin couldn't help but think he'd be very giving in bed, very much into pleasuring his partner. And, fuck, Merlin wanted to be that person.

Because of his rather keen imagination, tingles started running up Merlin's calf and leg. His thighs went to jelly and began to tremble. Merlin jigged and jittered. His face got as hot as coals. And his thoughts drifted to nothing but a consciousness of Arthur, very near, very dear, and very lovely as he laboured over Merlin, colour still high on his cheeks, hair plastered to his skull, frown etched deep on his forehead.

His foggy brain barely registered Arthur's question. “Is it getting better?” Arthur said again.  
Trying to work words past his thickening tongue, Merlin mumbled, "Yes, nearly there.”

Mostly because he wanted Arthur's hands to linger on his skin some more, because his touch fretted his blood into beating quicker and his body into lighting up into a state of well being Merlin hadn't know before, Merlin wanted the massage to continue. So, yeah, he'd just lied a little.

He hoped that in the grand scheme of things that little mystification could be overseen. What seemed more pressing was the notion he had to do something with his secret. He had to tell Arthur how he made him feel. Not sharing that wasn't particularly honest, especially given the kind of thoughts Merlin was entertained about Arthur while Arthur believed them friends. Merlin had to ask Arthur out.

He opened his mouth to say as much, when three of the kids from the children's home, trotted over to ask if Merlin was all right.

Merlin sat up, flexed his foot, then climbed upright. He walked around and, noticing his cramp had gone, said, “Right as rain.”

“Let's finish the match, then!” The boys started tugging him back towards the pitch. 

“Are you sure you're fine to run about?” Arthur called out after him.

Merlin craned his head and said, “Yeah, yeah, I am.”

Without thinking too much about how he'd wasted so many opportunities – mostly because that hurt more than the worst cramp ever – Merlin jogged back to the pitch.

 

*****

 

The office Christmas party entailed a lot of decorations that shone and twinkled in different sets of colours, an open bar, and a karaoke set-up. 

Merlin was appraising the holiday get up from his position at the bar when Arthur walked into the salon with a tall brunette on his arm. She had waves in her hair like an old-time star, doe eyes, and lips that stretched in a sweet smile highlighted by eye-catching rouge.

Merlin wanted to butt his head against the bar counter. He had let it go for less than a week. In the throes of raking up the courage to ask Arthur out, he'd given up doing so in the time leading up to the Christmas Party. There was time in the new year, he'd told himself. But in the meanwhile Arthur had gone and found himself another date. It figured; Arthur was handsome and a perfect gentleman so naturally people gravitated towards him. 

In spite of how predictable this outcome was, the knowledge that he'd lost his chance with Arthur hurt in the heart and the belly and somewhere deeper inside that Merlin didn't want to name for fear of sounding maudlin even to himself. He refused to call it his soul. What mattered, though, was that even now – even accompanied by a gorgeous lady as he was – the sight of Arthur spun something loose inside Merlin.

“Barman,” Merlin said, hailing the man with a sign of his hand. “A vodka shot.”

The barman eyed the the glass Merlin has already drunk, “Are you sure?”

“I'm not that much of a lightweight.”

The barman filled his glass.

Merlin was halfway into it, when Gwen from Accounting sank into the stool next to him, “Isn't Arthur's date gorgeous?”

Merlin could act like a jealous sod now and say something he'd repent in the next five seconds. But his mum had raised him better than that and nothing beat some verbal self-flagellation anyway. “Yeah, she is.” When the barman swung down their length of the counter Merlin said, “Barman, another.”

This time the barman dispensed with the questions and just lifted an eyebrow.

“Very sure,” Merlin said, holding his glass up, and the barman poured.

“She's just so glamorous,” Gwen said, following Arthur's date with her eyes. “And that dress, I'd kill for that dress.” She gave a short giggle. “Actually, I wouldn't mind giving Arthur a spin too.”

“Gwen!” Merlin said, and burst out laughing – and couldn't stop. 

Gwen narrowed her eyes. “Merlin, are you drunk?” 

Merlin considered it. The room wasn't spinning around him but he did feel a little buzzed perhaps, light in the head, and heavy in the body. Warm too. And he felt the urge to laugh at things. “Maybe,” he said. “Just the slightest little bit.”

“Merlin, perhaps you should come away from the bar,” Gwen said, wrapping her arm around him.

Merlin disengaged from Gwen. “But I like the bar and the barman.” Merlin waved at him. “It's so... cosy and colourful and look at the umbrellas decorating the drinks!”

Gwen dragged him away. “You're definitely moving away from that source of temptation.”

Merlin stuck his lower lip out. “I love the bar.”

“Really, Merlin, what's got into you?”

Merlin looked to Arthur. He was doing the rounds of the room, introducing his date to everyone, even their Branch Manager. If he was introducing her to him, a man with a godlike status at Dragonlance, Arthur meant business. “Nothing is.”

“Merlin?”

The walls did bend a little then, and the sound of the last notes of the current song being sung expanded into his conciousness in a jarring treble.

Okay, Merlin was sozzled.

Leaving Gwen to fend for herself, Merlin jumped on the stage and took the mic from the last singer. “Uh, hello, uh,” he said. Some eyes turned to him: most of the people in the room continued milling about, chatting and laughing, socialising. “I'm going to sing a song,” he slurred just the littlest bit. “Because this is Karaoke and, of course, I'm going to sing...” More eyes converged on him, most notably Arthur's. He cocked his head at him, his brow puckering. 

Merlin felt the knot in his gut tighten, though he couldn't be certain whether it was his feelings for Arthur speaking up or the vodka acting on his system. “I'm going to sing an older song called I--” He tapped the mic and the thing wailed loudly with a noise like nails on a chalkboard. “Called I Can't Make You Love me by Bonnie Raitt.”

The music started and Merlin tightened his grip on the mic. 

“ _Turn down the lights_ ,” he sang in a voice more wobbly than he would have liked. “Turn down the bed.”

He hiccuped but that didn't much matter because he had this tune down. He was feeling it! He was feeling this bloody song! 

The music bearing him on, he muddled through the first verse. When he opened eyes that he didn't remember closing there were a lot more people gazing up the stage than there had been. Lancelot and Gwen were among them. They were communicating from opposite ends of the room by way of a game of eyebrows and hand signs.

Well, Merlin had better not focus on them, but on the song he was singing. Arthur might not love him, and have lovely arm candy he was sure to fall for, but people were loving his performance!

This buoyed him through the chorus:

“ _Cause I can't make you love me if you don't  
You can't make your heart feel something it won't..._ ”

His eyes searched for Arthur in the crowd, and there he was, in his evening jacket, his frown endearing, even if it was deepening, his pursed mouth reddened from some nervous biting and entirely kissable for it.

Merlin grabbed his mic tight and put his mouth to it. He poured his lungs into the chorus.

“ _Here in the dark, in these final hours_  
I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power  
But you won't, no you won't  
'Cause I can't make you love me, if you don't.” 

When he looked again, Arthur's mouth had slackened. A murmur rose among the crowd. People leant together and started exchanging softly delivered comments. Though Merlin had to wonder why, Gwen mimed to Lancelot, “Do something!”

Arthur meanwhile was doing some confabulating with his date of his own.

This didn't help raising Merlin's mood at all. Merlin's heart got all bruised and battered rather. 

Merlin sang his feelings with all the passion he had. 

_I'll close my eyes, then I won't see_  
The love you don't feel when you're holding meMorning will come and I'll do what's right  
Just give me till then to give up this fight  
And I will give up this fight

Arthur gave his date his champagne flute and Merlin briefly wondered what he was up to. But the music caught up with Merlin again and he just had to sing this bit out. It was so meaningful.

When the chorus began again, Merlin found he had no more air in his lungs to carry him through the notes though. Everything spun, the fairy lights, the room. Objects turned into a rather pop-artish mess of colour in his brain.

A hand palmed his waist and lips grazed his ear. “Let me get you home, you drunken lump.”

“Arthur!” Merlin said, over the music that was still playing. “I haven't finished singing yet!”

“You're quite done for the evening,” Arthur said, pulling him away from the mic.

“But the song, Arthur, I was pouring my heart out!”

“Yes, I know,” Arthur said in a much lower voice. “Believe me, you'll thank me once you're sober.”

Merlin wanted to protest. Mostly because he had already been concocting a follow up to this song in the shape of _I Hate Myself for Loving_ you by Joan Jett. But then his stomach lurched and he tasted bile at the back of his throat. “Okay, all right,” he said, attempting to dominate the urge to throw up. “I think I'll be getting home.”

“I'll take you.”

Merlin elbowed himself free. What he didn't need was having Arthur around. He already had him on the brain and heart. And even though Arthur meant well, Merlin needed some time alone to learn to forget about him. “I can get home by myself just fine,” Merlin said, taking a step forward. That action might have been a notch misjudged because he tripped right off stage. Thankfully, he was nimble, and he didn't face plant on the floor, but twisted upright like a cat. “I'm fine. I'm fine.”

Arthur grabbed his elbow and led him out of the salon. “The cloakroom is this way, Merlin. That's the wall right there.”

Merlin veered sharply left. “Wall, right, wall.”

While Arthur stalked to the coat stand, Merlin tottered behind at a slightly more sedate pace.

After he'd swung into his own coat, a charcoal cashmere thing Merlin rather wanted to bury his cheek against, Arthur said, “So which one's yours?”

“Black,” Merlin said, not sure he remembered what his outwear looked like. “With buttons.”

A smile twisted Arthur's lips. “With buttons, right.”

Once they'd located Merlin's coat and Arthur had bundled him into it, they made for the car. Arthur opened the door to the passenger seat and said, “Can you manage to get into the car on your own steam?” 

“Sure,” Merlin said, braining himself on the door frame right next. So much for confidence. “Ouch, that hurt.”

Arthur spun him round and palmed his forehead. “Have you cut yourself, you idiot?”

Name-calling aside, Merlin only wanted to lean against that hand and feel the warmth of it. But even as tipsy as he was he knew he couldn't do that. Arthur was off limits now. He had a girlfriend. “No, am fine. Am fine.”

Arthur tipped Merlin's head back and thumbed his hairline. “You should thank your lucky stars for that.”

Arthur drove at a sedate pace and knew not to put any music on. Merlin leant his head against the glass, which soothed his pounding temples, and closed his eyes against the bright lights of the city's night scape. When he was jolted again, Merlin realised they were parked across from his.

“What, um, how?”

Arthur killed the engine and shook his head. “The usual way, Merlin, a car, some steering, some navigating along streets, voilà.”

“Umpf.”

Arthur shepherded Merlin up the stairs and into the lift. When it pinged open, he plundered Merlin's pockets for his keys. Once they were inside Merlin's flat, he sat him on his sofa. Merlin sank against its softness and closed his eyes for a second. He heard the tramp of footsteps and the banging of furniture. Then Arthur was pushing something into his hand. “What's this?” Merlin asked, blinking one eye open.

“Aspirin.” Arthur motioned for him to drink with his hand. “God knows you need some sobering.”

Merlin felt nauseous and more liquids seemed like something that would tip the scales of his queasiness and make him actually puke his guts out. But he sipped slowly and, though the medicine tasted faintly like metal, he slowly drained the contents of his glass.

“And now you can tell me what that was about,” Arthur said, putting his hands on his hips.

“What was what?” Merlin asked, still more than a little fuzzy around the edges.

“The drinking--” Arthur flailed his hands about. “The song.”

“The song...” The memory of singing on stage had dulled after his nap in the car but now it resurfaced full force.

“Yes, the song,” Arthur said. “What was it?”

“A maudlin nineties song?”

Arthur grunted. “Oh cut it!” An exhalation flared his nostrils. “Because it looked an awful lot like a love declaration.”

Merlin froze, his whole body went on lock down. Even so, he moved. He set the glass on the side-table and climbed to his feet. He shook all over and wasn't sure he could do this at all, but if he had to confess to Arthur, then he'd do it standing. “Yeah.”

“Yeah what, Merlin?”

“It was...” Merlin sucked in a breath so deep it dazed him. “It was a love declaration.” 

Arthur staggered in place. “So you're saying you're what... in love with me?”

Merlin had a bad feeling about this, the rejection he'd so long dreaded was coming. But at this point the only honest thing he could do was make a clean breast of it all. “Yes, yes I am.”

“And you chose to tell me with a song you drunkenly sang at the office Christmas party?”

Merlin cringed. In retrospect and, with the aspirin kicking in, that had been a bad idea. “I wasn't thinking, and I was mildly drunk.”

“I can see that,” Arthur said, giving Merlin a once over.

“Do you hate me now?” Merlin rushed out, eyes prickly with tears that wouldn't be there at all if he hadn't got so bloody plastered. “Because I never meant to be obnoxious about it.”

Arthur tried speaking, “Mer--”

Merlin was on a roll though and he couldn't let Arthur put a word in until he was done. It wasn't every day you bared your soul in the places that hurt the most, and he either did it all in one breath or he'd never manage. “And I know you have someone else. I know I'm too late. I respect she's your girlfriend. She must be really great to be the one you settled for. And I'm not going to mention this again, or make you feel awkward about this. I just hope you can still be friends with me. Because what would really, really hurt is if you didn't want to be friends anymore.”

Arthur prowled over to him, grabbed his face in his hands. His thumbs circled the arc of bone jutting under his eyes. “You numbskull,” he said, before angling his nose and touching Merlin's upper lip with his mouth. Though he was shocked with surprise and he still didn't understand how it had come to this Merlin wasn't so stupid as not to act now, when he was getting everything he wanted.

He wrapped his own lips around Arthur's and they both gasped. Warmth spread from the base of Merlin's spine, to his belly, to his heart. The breath shivered out of him in a little gasp that sounded like a sob. His lips parted and Arthur slipped inside, kissing Merlin deep before drawing Merlin's tongue between his lips. They kissed with their mouths open, slow and fevered, until Merlin's ribcage split open to make way for a heart become over-large with emotion. 

When they broke apart, Arthur slipped his hand to Merlin's shoulder, and squeezed. “You should get some sleep now. This will keep till the morning.”

 

**** 

 

When Merlin woke, he had completely lost his alcohol buzz. He had a low level headache, his mouth tasted funny with a side of shitty, but he was otherwise starkly sober. This meant he remembered exactly what had happened the night before and could feel all the mortification that derived from his pour-your- heart-out karaoke session. And without the vodka buffer he could could also clearly summon a visual of the night before, complete with a memory of his colleagues' baffled faces, and get a keener notion of what a fool he'd made of himself.

And worse, of Arthur.

He wished he could undo all of it, but then a memory of Arthur kissing him surfaced and Merlin couldn't wish that hadn't happened. Wait, wait. He froze. If it had happened... If Merlin hadn't had a spirits-induced dream that happened to feature his heart's desire.

Either way it was high time to face the music. Merlin pushed the blanket off him and padded into the kitchen.

When Merlin entered the room, Arthur was staring into his mug.

“I didn't dream you, then,” Merlin said, shuffling in place and tugging on his earlobe.

Arthur swilled on his stool. “I'm most certainly flesh and blood, no dream.”

“I'm sorry,” Merlin started, because if there was one thing that needed saying it was that. “I made a public spectacle of myself and, you by proxy, and I shouldn't have.”

Arthur pursed his lips. “Now that you're sober, I have to ask. Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“What you said yesterday night.” Arthur gesticulated wildly and now that Merlin looked there was something a little less prim and proper than usual about him. His eyes bulged a little and were red rimmed and his hair, usually carefully tousled into trendy dos, was standing on end at the front. “That you love me.”

Saying this while clear-headed was even harder than confessing while three sheets to the wind. But Arthur wanted to know. Actually, he looked like he needed to. Merlin didn't think his face was scrunched in a frown for nothing or that his his body was coiled with tension just because. It was Merlin who had put that rigidity there. He had done it with his actions, by being so infuriatingly stupid. And Merlin just couldn't stomach Arthur's pain. Not for a second. It was up to him to make reparations. “Yeah. One hundred per cent. There's never been anything I meant more.”

Arthur scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Merlin...”

“I know about your date, don't worry.”

Arthur's head snapped up. “I'd have told you yesterday, but you didn't seem to be very receptive.”

Merlin ducked his head. “Yeah, not my best moment.”

“But although Mithian was most certainly my date to yesterday's event,” Arthur said, and Merlin wished he wouldn't explain the ins and outs of how he'd fallen for her. “She isn't my... significant other.”

Merlin blanked on that. “Come again?” 

“She isn't my girlfriend,” Arthur said, his gaze pooling on Merlin. “She's a friend. I knew she likes festive things. I was sure she'd love Dragonlance's Christmas party. So I thought I'd ask her to be my plus one.”

Hope nearly bowled Merlin over, but he didn't let it. “Either way I am sorry. I should've thought about what I was doing--”

“That would have made things easier for you.”

Merlin hung his head, shook it. “I wish I hadn't done it.”

Arthur's voice rang tonelessly. “All of it? Do you wish you'd done nothing at all?”

Merlin stared at Arthur. “I don't--”

“Yesterday you told me about your feelings for me,” Arthur said, standing up, walking over to him, head up, chin out. “Do you wish that unsaid?”

For a moment, Merlin found himself on the brink of saying yes. It would be easier, far less embarrassing. He felt completely exposed, bare and vulnerable. He would have been fine with running away and not facing this. But because Arthur meant to so much to him, he couldn't stay silent. So, albeit a little red-faced, Merlin soldiered on. “No. That would be like... Not being me. Because the me that I am...” God, was this even making sense? “Really, really likes you. Loves you.”

Arthur flashed him a smile that dimpled his cheeks and made his eyes shine. “I'm glad.”

“You're glad?”

Arthur nodded. “I'm glad because I like you quite a lot in return.”

“So I didn't dream the kiss from last night?” Merlin asked.

“No,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “That kiss happened. Believe me, I'd know.”

Merlin sidled closer to Arthur, his heart pounding loudly in his throat and in his wrists. “So you actually would like to go out with me?”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “I'd like to go out with you, wine and dine you...”

“What else?”

Arthur's cheeks pinked up “More kissing wouldn't come amiss either.”

“Wouldn't it?” Merlin bridged the last of the gap between them.

“Nope.” Arthur's lips cushioned Merlin's. “It'd be perfect.”

Merlin kissed him softly. more lingeringly. 

“Over the past year, I've been thinking about you quite a lot,” Arthur said, his hand landing on Merlin's hip. “Incessantly actually.”

“Really.”

“Uh, uh.” Arthur nodded. “I've been miserable with want.”

Merlin drew back a notch. “Then why didn't you say?”

“Why didn't you?” Arthur tipped up an eyebrow.

Merlin leant his forehead against Arthur's, chuckled. “We're a couple of idiots.”

 

**** 

Arthur got a grip on Merlin's forearm, slanted his head and kissed him soft on the mouth. 

Merlin pulled Arthur tight against him, cupping his neck and rubbing lips with him, sucking on his mouth, fattening it with friction he smoothed with gentler touches, a hint of tongue. They both sobbed, puffing warm air into each other’s mouths, lips colliding again and again until Arthur's tongue slid easily past the seam of Merlin's parted lips. 

Arthur growled, rocked against him. 

"Bed," Merlin said, lips moving in quick whispers against Arthur's mouth. "Bed."

"You'll have to steer."

Merlin walked Arthur to the bed, sat him down at the edge of it and seated himself across from him. They stared at each other out of wide eyes for a few interminable moments, their breaths quickening. Then Merlin thumbed the shape Arthur's mouth, of his jaw, the arc of his cheekbones. He followed the touch of his fingers with that of his lips. Every time they lingered on a sensitive spot Arthur gasped. 

“When you gave me that massage," Merlin said, his own lungs full to bursting, "I was actually daydreaming about something like this."

"What massage?" Arthur asked, his eyebrows converging.

"Charity footy match," Merlin said, running parted lips under Arthur's chin. "Cramp."

"So are you that sensitive of have you got a foot fetish?" Arthur huffed a small laugh. 

"Neither," Merlin said, tackling the buttons on Arthur's shirt. "I have an Arthur fetish."

Arthur's chest hollowed with a sharp inhalation. His muscles tensed when Merlin palmed his left pec, slid his hand down his side prior to slipping his shirt off him.

With hands that moved feverishly, Arthur started on Merlin's own shirt. At the same time he found his pulse point with his mouth, the joint between neck and shoulder and kissed him there, opening his lips to run them along Merlin's skin, to tease bruises on it that Merlin could already feel blooming with a dull but pleasant ache he wanted more of. 

When he'd pulled the shirt down Merlin's arms and off him, Arthur paused to look at him. His eyes dilated, his fingers trailed along Merlin's torso, drew patterns with his chest hair, his palms sweeping down Merlin's biceps "You're--" He swallowed. "You're beautiful."

"I, um, thank you," Merlin said, his voice splintering roughly.

Wearing a smile all the while, Arthur shook his head. "You shouldn't thank me for telling the truth.”

Arthur gave him a swift, slanted glance, half hunger, half tentativeness, and Merlin was hit by a pang of want, a sharp pain in the heart and gut. Leaning forward, Merlin mouthed along the swell of muscle on Arthur's shoulder, tasted the salt of his skin, the length of stretched taut sinew. He found the buckle of Arthur's belt, pulled blindly and more than a little ineffectively at it. 

Arthur trembled; his voice was unsteady when he said, "Wait, wait."

He stood. His hands went to the fastening of his trousers. He fiddled and huffed. He looked up to the ceiling, neck cording and reddening, then pouted at the zip. 

Merlin laughed softly, rose and walked over to him. Knuckles brushing against the bulge in Arthur's trousers, eyes fastened on Arthur's bright ones, he lowered the zip himself. 

He cupped the weight and warmth of Arthur through his underwear, heard him gasp wetly, and kissed Arthur's mouth deeply and wetly. He kneaded Arthur through the fabric, pushed the heel of his hand against the base of his cock, until the cotton was drenched in places. Their kiss roughened, became a scraping of teeth along chin and jaw, a rough collision of lips that got bruised and reddened, a tangle of mouths fitting unevenly, Merlin's lower lip to Arthur's upper one. They panted roughly, breathed each other's breath. 

When he judged it was time, Merlin pulled down Arthur's boxers, bared the tip of his cock, peeled the foreskin back, and touched flesh that was wet with pre-come and hot with body heat.

In reaction Arthur growled, pulled Merlin's head back by the hair, scraped his teeth along Merlin's throat, sucked a kiss at the base of it. With his other hand, he unbuttoned Merlin's jeans. He rasped out, "Get out of them."

So Merlin kicked off his shoes. As he unbuttoned his jeans, Arthur's gaze slid down to his stomach. Merlin's thumbs hooked onto the waistband of his jeans and Arthur got red from chest to face. 

"Like what you see?" Merlin said, hoping he could shake off some of the tension that was working his body taut. But it wouldn't quit, and Merlin still felt abuzz with adrenaline, his heart beating loud in his chest. 

"Yeah," Arthur said, touching himself, pulling on his cock in slow strokes, his eyes heavy-lidded. "Yes."

They rid themselves of the rest of their clothing at the same time, walked one towards the other. To the sound of their harsh breaths, they kissed again, hands roaming across each other's bodies. Arthur skating his along the length of Merlin's back, notch by notch, across the small of it, fit his palms around the swell of Merlin's arse and touched the tip of a finger to his hole.

Merlin hissed, threw his head back, closed his eyes, shook inside.

"Too much?" Arthur said, skimming his lips against his shoulder, soothing him with slow motions of his hand at the base of his spine.

"No," Merlin said. "Too little."

Merlin couldn't quite say he wanted it all, that he was choked up with it. That his lungs had contracted to tiny organs that couldn't quite do their work and that his heart was working overtime. He couldn't admit as much and not go up in flames. But he needed Arthur with a need that was written in his skin and in his constituent parts and he couldn't wait a moment longer. He needed to get the taste of his skin on his lips and tongue, to etch the mark of him on his body.

They moved to the bed. Arthur lowered himself atop him. He was heavy and sweaty and warm, smelt of musk and sex. He fit his lips to Merlin's, dipped his tongue in his mouth, traced it along the roof of it and under Merlin's upper lip. When their mouths ached and tingled with warmth, he skated his lips along the cords of Merlin's neck. He nuzzled his jaw, his ears, sucking on his lobe. He pressed his body tight against Merlin's, his cock shedding pre-come on the inside of Merlin's thigh while Merlin's lay taut against his belly.

Merlin gasped. He said, "Arthur."

Though fine tremors ran through him too, Arthur moved down his body with grace, rained kisses on Merlin's torso and belly, on his hip bones and thighs. Merlin meshed his hand through the strands of Arthur's hair, guided him to his cock. Arthur sucked on the tip and lay kisses on the girth. He wet it up with spit and took it in his mouth, where it was warm and perfect. Warmth bloomed inside Merlin, enveloped him tight both on the inside and on the outside. He was so ready to come. Wanted it with blind need.

But Arthur didn't finish him off like that. Instead he opened Merlin up with his fingers and his mouth, wetting him up with his tongue and sucking at him with lips puckered around the ridge of Merlin's hole. He used fingers and lube and more fingers. 

Merlin's breath clumped into a tight ball when Arthur entered him. He blinked sweat off his eyelashes, gusted out the air that had gathered in his tightening lungs. He felt it then, the bright flare of joy, the combustion of well being that lit up his nerves and undid his organs and made his bones feel a little brittle. Like he was. About to break apart at the seams, at the heart and soul too, most likely. 

Arthur thrust home, hollowed out, looked into Merlin's eyes, his own wide with surprise, soft with mirth and joy and something else that melted Merlin right in the marrow. 

Arthur kissed the tip of Merlin's nose, roamed his mouth across his face, sloppy, breathy, a little wet. He bottomed out, sitting fat and hard inside Merlin, undeniable in his warmth and girth. His arms trembled either side of Merlin's head, his face gathered in a frown, his mouth opened. Starting a rhythm, he drew back and pushed in again, each motion punctuated by a gusty breath Merlin tasted the final rattle of. 

Merlin matched each stroke of Arthur's with an equal twist of his hips. He gripped him tight with his arms, his heels pushing against Arthur's calves. 

He kissed Arthur's chin, the sweat that dripped of its end tangy on Merlin's tongue. He bucked into Arthur's slam-ins, focused on not drowning into the lashes of pleasure that came with Arthur's shorter, jerkier thrusts. But he couldn't quite. It was too good for that. Too raw. His heart was clogged with love and his body was climbing too high on the cusp of orgasm for him to wait.

He gripped Arthur's nape with his damp palm, pulled him low for a kiss he couldn't give because his mouth slackened, brushed his cock with the side of his hand, and without even managing any kind of better grip, he came with a noise he bit back low in his throat. 

Arthur stumbled out of his tempo, twisted his hips twice in a row, and locked above him before coming in shudders.

The buzz of the light bulb and their fast breaths were the only sounds in the room for a solid minute. By then Merlin's body was heavy with a lethargy that was dragging down his eyelids, but he made himself turn on his side and look at Arthur because Arthur in his after-glow looked more beautiful -- even with colour splotches stain his neck and face -- and more endearing to Merlin than he ever had. Love stabbed Merlin in the heart and affection made him soft about the insides.

"What?" Arthur said, cocking his head at him, his head splayed on his rising chest.

"Do our Christmas holidays begin today?"

"Mine surely do." Arthur grabbed his hand, toyed with it, fit his fingers with his. "Why?"

"Because I've just begun getting to know you." Merlin made what was hopefully a funny face. “And would love continuing my exploration of you.” 

Arthur laughed and pulled him on top of him, and though they had to twist and shift to rearrange their limbs, they found a more or less comfortable position, Merlin fitting nicely in the cradle of Arthur's legs. "You filthy-minded, pervert. That's not what the Christmas holidays are for."

"Aren't they?" Merlin tipped his head to the side. "And here I was thinking I could have you." Even if his cock was quite soft and spent now, he rocked against Arthur. "And pound you into the mattress." 

Arthur raked a foot up his calf and the motion stirred something low in Merlin's belly. "Oh now you'll have to prove your point. No groundless bragging allowed."

"Is that so?" Merlin lowered his mouth to Arthur. 

"Yes, that is so."

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> If you celebrate, happy holidays. If you don't, I wish you the happiest of Wednesdays!


End file.
